His Power, His Pleasure, His Pain
by Nareliel
Summary: Nyota Uhura is many things. For Spock, she is his power, his pleasure, his pain...


_**AN: The following is a look at Spock's thoughts about Uhura. The events described are from both Star Trek 2009 and Star Trek Into Darkness. The Vulcan words used are taken from the Vulcan Language Dictionary **_**_Compiled by __Selek__ from __Vulcan Language Institute_, _Marketa Z.__, Star Trek episodes and Movies_**_**. This oneshot was inspired by a line in the song "Kiss From a Rose" as performed by MiG. Those words are, "You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain." To all staunch Star Trek fans, I apologize now if Spock's thoughts are presented in a manner somewhat out of character. I am far more comfortable with Tolkien and Marvel than the Star Trek universe. However, this idea would not leave me alone. **_

_**Disclaimer: As always, the characters of this fiction do not belong to me. They are the property of another's creative genius. I have simply taken a trek into what I believe to be Spock's hidden thoughts.**_

* * *

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

**His Power, His Pleasure, His Pain**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Nyota Uhura was his power.

She was human. Most of his race would see that as a disadvantage. With their numbers so diminished by Nero, his fellow Vulcans had become even more intolerant of what they believed to be the flaws of human emotionalism. The same characteristics they perceived as the deficiencies of her species were the very attributes he found, at least in the case of one specific lieutenant, the most fascinating.

Spock found himself amazed by her durability. Physically, she would never match him in vigor. Logic mandated that her body simply could not take the corporeal distress his Vulcan frame could endure. Yet, despite the diminutive stature of her race, Nyota had managed to do the unimaginable. On more than one occasion, she had given him strength.

She had offered unyielding support when his mother and his planet had been engorged by a Romulan enduced black hole. Her lips, so expressive in their every movement, had promised solace in the turbolift and, later, on the teleportation pad, Nyota's kisses had given him bold direction. _Come back to me. _Perhaps it was why, in his moment of rage, when killing Khan had been the sole purpose for his every breath; he had looked to her for affirmation.

"Go get him," had been her adamant response. It had been the only prompting he required. Her blessing a mantra that beat in time with his pulse upon chasing the mass murderer through the streets of San Francisco. Though a mere human female, Nyota managed to – for lack of a logical description – infuse his system with a will to endure. She endowed him with strength and a drive to be victorious. She was _sha'tapul_; she was his power.

Nyota Uhura was his pleasure.

Logic was stable in its clear precision. The lines were drawn. Logic was either present or it was not. It did not bend. And, at times, due to his torn nature, logic rendered Spock no comfort, only cold iron will. Nyota, however, was different.

She was logic bathed in passion, sweetness tempered with the adequate amount of spice, a Vulcan sunrise kissed with an Earthly breeze, an enigma clothed in beauty. Her eyes brimmed with a fire that he felt within his own being, yet could not find the words to express. Her lips were the threshold of his undoing, gently persistent in shredding the emotional barriers studiously erected in meditation until Spock drank of her as deeply as a man dying of thirst. Perhaps he was - his human need to feel often smothered by the iron grasp of logic.

Nyota offered him understanding, acceptance, and love. She challenged his logic, chipped away at his will to remain analytical, and savored his defeat with an ardour so infectious Spock abandoned his reasoning and indulged in her euphoria. Holding her was freedom, an undeniable escape. She was life and passion. She was _sha'sanosh_, his pleasure; the one joy he never wished to relinquish.

Nyota Uhura was his pain.

In a world of Vulcan clarity, Spock's mother had been a balm to his often tattered emotions. She had understood him in a way none other on his planet could. It would be illogical to claim her loss unendurable, for he had not only survived it but allowed it to fuel his human need for vengeance against Nero. The experience had, however, changed him. Loss had robbed him, taking a part of him he would never recover. Once he had chided his future captain for not accepting fear; now he truly understood the meaning of the word.

He had feared Earth would suffer the same fate of Vulcan at Nero's hands. He had feared the illogical undertaking of an immoral mission set into motion by the death of one man – though his own logic had later been shattered upon watching the life fade from Kirk's eyes. He had feared his inability to defeat Khan in combat, rendering justice to the enhanced human even if the outcome led to the end of another sentient organism's existence. Yet, not one of those occasions compared with the fear Spock had experienced when Lieutenant Uhura's mortal safety hung in the balance.

He had fatally wounded Nero's ship, fully primed to sacrifice himself if needed, in retaliation for his mother and his planet. He had been prepared to take a life, if not with his phaser – the setting turned from stun to kill – then with his bare hands, for his friend. What would he do for Nyota? The query brought a stirring within that Spock could not find the adequate words to express, a pain with which he could barely contend at the mere conjecture of her passing much less describe in clarity.

He had first experienced this phenomenon upon realizing Nero had destroyed the fleet sent to aid Vulcan. Had Lieutenant Sulu not failed to disengage the external inertial dampener, the _Enterprise_ would have been amongst the shattered vessels they had encountered upon dropping from warp into the starship graveyard. The massive loss had been a severe blow even to his stoic façade that would be followed minutes later by the destruction of his home world. Yet, in the breath of stasis between the loss of the fleet and the loss of Vulcan, Spock had been struck by a single thought that – in the more human vernacular – made his blood run cold. He had nearly lost Nyota because of his need to avoid the appearance of favoritism. Were it not for her refusal to stand down in the face of adversity, one of the very qualities that drew him to her, she would be gone, her life taken by his own actions. The _Farragut _was in ruin. Had she been aboard, Spock knew that no amount of Vulcan logic could have saved him.

Another instance he had endured the same tormenting sensation had been upon _Qo'noS_ when surrounded by three Klingon vessels. _"You brought me here because I speak Klingon. So let me speak Klingon."_ Logically, he had known her suggestion to be their most viable option. However, it did not stop his deeply rooted emotions from threatening to overtake his Vulcan impassivity. The captain would never realize the war that had transpired beneath Spock's seemingly detached expression. Each step she had taken toward the waiting group of Klingons hammering through his being with the force of a _kareel-ifla_ jab. The older, more violent form of Vulcan martial arts a suitable description of the effect her mortal peril produced upon his hard sought stoicism.

When Admiral Marcus' weapons had trained upon the _Enterprise _for the final kill, Spock had sought Uhura, needing to be as close to her as bridge protocol would allow. Unseen by their fellow officers, human fingers had brushed Vulcan, allowing him to whisper his devotion – words made difficult to express by his culture – into her mind, caressing her fears with the calm that was his nature. Though a part of him shuddered at the thought of her loss, he had protected her from its revelation, wishing only to give her comfort in what had appeared to be their final moments. He had believed that moment to be the worst he had withstood. He had quickly learned the error of his logic. Strapped to the captain's chair, plummeting toward Earth, and not certain of her whereabouts as the _Enterprise _began to burn was a torment far worse.

Humans often spoke of facing their demons – an illogical sentiment considering one could never physically confront metaphorical flaws. However, Spock now understood the meaning they assigned this particular saying. He had found his own personal nightmare. To lose her would be unbearable, a blow to his emotive control from which he doubted the possibility of his recovery. This _koh-nar_, fear of emotional vulnerability, made Nyota _sha'kusut_; it made her his pain. Given her effect, most of his species would see his choice to remain at her side as not only illogical but a rash decision more suited to the folly of the _V'tosh ka'tur_. Yet, were he even to attempt severing his connections to her, Spock knew he would fail. No matter its lack of logic, the bond was there. Nyota remained his power, his pleasure, his pain; and Spock would have it no other way.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

**The End**

xoxoxoxoxoxox

* * *

_**AN: V'tosh ka'tur, according to memory-alpha wiki, are Vulcan's without logic who disagreed with the ancestral teachings concerning logic and emotional suppression. Thank you for taking the time to read this foray into the world of Star Trek (or at least J.J. Abrams' version of the Star Trek universe). Feedback is always welcome. Please let me know your thoughts.**_


End file.
